Sick Day
by I-Am-Jacks-Smirking-Revenge
Summary: Will takes care of a sick Jack. Challenge fic. WillJack. (Complete)


Title: Sick Day Author: Sara Status: Complete (1/1) Email: ainur_of_arda@msn.com  
  
Website: http://www.geocities.com/meta_princess/justjackandwill.html Rating: PG-13 (Kissing scene =^.^= me-ow) Pairing: Will/Jack Spoilers: None Warnings: Slash. Disclaimer: Don't own it. If I did, the theme song would be sung by a choir of moneys and Jack would be dressed as the infamous Brian Slade space tart the entire series.  
  
Summary: Will takes care of a sick Jack. Notes: Answer to Alicia's challenge ( http://www.geocities.com/rockchica15/willjack ). Also, takes place when Will and Jack are living together, and Grace has her own apartment.  
  
Sick Day  
  
When Jack woke up, his whole body hurt like hellfire. And not in that good 'I just had the most mind-blowing sex of my life' way. It was more like 'it feels someone just kicked me from the inside of my stomach and all my muscles have turned to tapioca pudding' hurt.  
  
Jack didn't often get sick. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had been ill.  
  
So it was only natural (to him, anyway) that the first thought to run through his fever induced brain would be Oh, God, I'm dying!  
  
He whimpered quietly to himself for some time. He had tried once or twice to call out, though he knew Will would be at work, and Grace might be in her own apartment for once, but every time he opened him mouth, his stomach lurched violently and he had to slap his lips back together tightly. He a similar reaction when he attempted to get up, not to mention the pain racing throughout his limbs.  
  
He was just pining over the regrets he'd had in life (though he found that they were few and far between) when a wave of sickness rushed over him that he couldn't ignore. Stumbling out of bed and almost crashing to the floor, he finally made it out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Heaving all the contents in his stomach into the toilet, he heard someone coming up behind him.  
  
"Jack, are you okay?!" Will appeared in the doorway behind him, worry written across his face.  
  
Turning to glare at him, Jack managed, sarcastically, "Oh, yes, Will. I'm just fine."  
  
Will rubbed the back of his head apologetically before helping Jack up and back to his bed.  
  
"What are you doing home, anyway?" Jack asked nervously as he watched Will pull out a thermometer from a drawer in his nightstand.  
  
"I'm taking the day off," Will shrugged, "Though I suppose I'd never get any rest with you and Grace around. I should've known something was wrong. It's just way too quiet out there," he paused for a moment before adding, "And sane."  
  
Nudging the cold metal underneath Jack's tongue, they both waited silently while the number rose slowly. Finally, there was a 'bleep' and Will removed the offending object.  
  
"Am I dying?" Jack inquired suddenly, the beginnings of fear and desperation in his words.  
  
Surprised, the lawyer turned to look at his friend, only to find him completely serious. "You have a fever of one hundred and three. If it gets any higher then I might have to take you into the hospital, but I seriously doubt that you're going to die, Jack," he said, his voice reassuring, with still just the edge of a teasing note.  
  
Jack looked sheepish for a minute, muttering, "Oh… I should've known, anyway. I'm way to pretty to die…"  
  
Chuckling, Will got up from the bed and walked to the door. "Get some rest, Jack," he said gently, "I'll make you something to eat." Smiling at the face Jack made at the suggestion of food, he quietly shut the door.  
  
~*~*~  
  
The hush that fell across the apartment with the absence of Jack was far more unpleasant then Will had imagined it would be. The slight hiss of the stove as it cooked crept under his skin as he attempted to actually settle down and read for once. The sound of the clock ticking felt as though it were nicking into his brain. The noises of the city in the daytime were far more offensive and less soothing then they seemed at night.  
  
The silence that filled the apartment without Jack was just too -noisy-.  
  
The repressing, quiet air was broken by the three high-pitched 'bleeps' that erupted from the timer above the stove. With a sigh disguised as vague irritation, but was actually relief, the man stood from his spot on the couch and set down his book.  
  
Masterfully, he turned down the stove, grabbed the handle of the pot and quickly poured a decent amount into the ceramic bowl that had been waiting on the countertop, and set the pot back down to be kept warm, all within three seconds.  
  
Placing the bowl on a tray and, after quickly gathering a spoon and napkin, he made his way back to Jack's room.  
  
Poking his head through the doorway, he frowned. A sheen of sweat glistened on his friend's forehead, but Jack was shivering badly. His eyes were shut tightly and he looked so much paler then usual.  
  
"Hey, Jack…" the frail man peeled his eyes open painfully, "You feeling any better?"  
  
Jack moaned pathetically, which was answer enough.  
  
"I'm sorry," Will moved into the room and set the tray down carefully next to the bed. He placed a palm on his friend's sticky forehead. The temperature didn't feel as though it had risen much, but it hadn't lowered any, either, "You think you can eat something?"  
  
Pale tinted green almost automatically, and the sick man groaned, "NooOOoo…"  
  
"Okay, okay," Will said quickly, brushing a lock of hair off of Jack's forehead, "You don't have to. But you really should try. It's help you get better."  
  
The other man seemed to consider it for a moment, then sighed, "Fine, I'll try… But if I puke, I'm doin' it on you."  
  
Will grimaced and then set the tray over Jack's legs. Watching as the other man sat up slowly and begin to sip tentatively at the chicken-noodle soup, he smiled slightly, surprising himself. He hadn't really expected the feeling of satisfaction that crept through his chest as his sick friend's spoonfuls became bolder.  
  
Surely enough, the bowl drained away bit by bit, until it was, finally, empty.  
  
Shoving the bowl away and still looking pale and squeamish, Jack demanded, "There. Now when do I start feeling better?"  
  
At that moment, Will, listening to the feeling in his chest, made a split-second decision.  
  
Leaning forward, he caught Jack's lips with his own. Almost as a natural reaction, Jack tilted his head backwards and opened his mouth slightly. By the time he realized what had actually just happened, Will's tongue was brushing gently against his lips before sliding between them. Stifling a gasp, he closed his eyes and pressed his mouth further onto his friend's. He pushed his own tongue against the intruder, deepening the kiss. Will placed his hand on the small of Jack's back. Moving downward, he sucked on Jack's lower lip, eliciting a moan from the smaller man.  
  
Just as abruptly as the kiss had begun, Will ended it. Stunned and confused, Jack looked at him for an explanation.  
  
Arching an eyebrow and smirking, he said, simply, "Feel any better now?"  
  
Jack, eyes widening and a blush reddening his cheeks at the incredibly sexy and un-Will-like behavior coming from his friend, laughed, "Yeah, I guess so. But what if you get sick now?"  
  
Will shrugged, "Then you'll just have to take care of me."  
  
Jack continued his hiccoughing giggles.  
  
"And I know you'd love to play nurse," Will grinned.  
  
"Okay…" Jack said, finally retaining his composure, "But only under one circumstance."  
  
Will looked surprised, but asked, "And what would that be?"  
  
"You'll have to let me show you the correct way to use a thermometer."  
  
~END 


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